


If I Had The Choice

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, First Meetings, Love Letters, M/M, Pining, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Sam moves into a new town, a new job, with his sisters in tow; and discovers he has the most interesting neighbour.-“How’re you doing today, Goodnight?” Sam called through the vent, groaning as he slid down the wall, flashes of pain rattling up his spine. He was getting too old for this job, grey streaking through his hair with increasing frequency; but his hands were still steady, his aim still true.
Relationships: Sam Chisolm & Goodnight Robicheaux, Sam Chisolm/Goodnight Robicheaux
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	If I Had The Choice

**Author's Note:**

> 21 (Dystopian AU) & 11 (Neighbour AU); Sam Chisolm x Goodnight Robicheaux for anon on tumblr

The ration book was lying on the mat when Sam opened the door, exhaustion dragging him into the ground, the world around him blurring into a misty haze. Sam leant against the doorframe, wood groaning worryingly beneath his weight — another thing that would need fixing in their time in this house, another thing that would be worked around until they were relocated again, hurried out in the dead of night and sent across the country for the slightest hint of a lead — and carefully inspected the ration book.

It didn’t look dangerous, but it shouldn’t be there. Sam had already prepared himself for a few days of no food — stomach growling until he felt like it was about to consume him whole, sleep his only escape and even that would elude him — while they waited for the new ration book to be issued. It felt faintly warm as he picked it up, joints cracking like gunshots, as if it had just been slipped through their letterbox moments earlier. A chill ran down Sam’s spine and he straightened up, carefully checking his surroundings with minute twitches of his head. The world was silent and dark, uncaring stars swirling past overhead. So, with a final suspicious look to the world around him, Sam slipped inside his house. 

Sleep took him quickly, despite the crackling of his nerves, Mary curling up beside him — reaching out to him in her sleep, other hand wrapped around her worn patchwork doll as Elisabeth settled back down against his back, her eyes never once opening.

⁂

The note shoved through the vent was a surprise. Mary clung to his arm, her weight dragging him sideways as Elizabeth watched through a crack in the curtains, her hand clamped over her mouth to keep back the frightened prayers. It fell into Sam’s hand easily — high quality paper carefully folded into the slightly creased shape of a horse — and he moved over to the small table, smoothing out the careful folds beneath the dim flickering light of the bare bulb.

_ It’s not a trick _ , the careful hand read in slightly shaky letters. The letters curled and swept across the page, almost archaic in bright blue ink.  _ I’m your neighbour. My name is Goodnight Robicheaux, and those are my rations I’ve given you. I never use all of them, and I saw you have two young girls with you. I hope you enjoy them. _

“Fancy that,” Sam muttered, flicking through the ration book, lingering over the high quality of the food stamped there. Curiosity drove him to touch his tongue to the leather, watching it absorb into the rich colour. Who was their neighbour that they received all of this? Mary slipped away with the ration book — footsteps as silent as a ghost — before muffled shrieks of delight split the air.

Sam scrambled for a piece of paper, finding a loose scrap, and a pen. The ink was blotchy and faded to almost a pale grey, some letters scored into the paper rather than written on it: Thank you. He folded the paper into a frog methodically, the old skill coming back to him quickly, and he slid it into the vent, resolving to try and not linger on the tantalising thoughts of their new neighbour anymore.

⁂

He failed.

⁂

“How’re you doing today, Goodnight?” Sam called through the vent, groaning as he slid down the wall, flashes of pain rattling up his spine. He was getting too old for this job, grey streaking through his hair with increasing frequency; but his hands were still steady, his aim still true. 

It had taken some careful research — snatched glances of movement in the other house, a shadow passing behind permanently closed curtains; an ear tuned to local gossip, passed in whispers that grew quieter when Sam moved past — but the vent wasn’t meant to exist, a secret passageway to allow them to communicate. Goodnight was an enigma — Sam had heard his nickname almost straight away, the legendary Angel of Death, but it reminded Sam of something very different than the massacres everyone spoke of — but he was a puzzle Sam wanted to crack before they were pulled away again. 

“Can’t complain,” Goodnight’s response came back, his voice slightly muffled. 

Sam rested his head against the wall, content to be this close for now, but he couldn’t deny the want in his chest to be closer; the burning curiosity to see if Goodnight remembered him as well. 

“Your visitor still there?”

Elizabeth had seen the man first, her yell setting Sam’s heart pounding in his chest, hiking her over one shoulder and preparing to pick up Mary as well before her words settled in his mind. The man visiting Goodnight looked dangerous — a bandolier of bone white knives slung across his hips — but it wasn’t just the weapons he carried openly. He moved like a predator, feet making almost no sound as he crossed the small path to Goodnight’s door, and let himself in. Sam pressed his ear to the vent, barely able to breathe, but he heard nothing.

“Who, Billy?” Goodnight laughed, and Sam released the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “He was just checking up on me.”

“You have interesting friends, Goodnight.”

“I just got you and him.”

Sam grinned.

“Say Goodnight, do you remember an incident about, would be thirteen years ago now, just up north. You, or at least I think it was you, were getting beaten up by a whole bar’s worth of people—”

“Yeah of course. I don’t get beaten up that often now.” Goodnight’s voice sounded closer, excitement clear even through the vent. “Got myself saved by an angel.”

“It’s not everyday I save random white men in bars,” Sam laughed, pressing his fingers to the cold metal of the vent. He wanted more than anything to see Goodnight, feel his skin beneath his fingers.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Goodnight breathed, “All this time I was looking for you and then you turn up next door.”

“Sam!” Elizabeth yelled as if she was trying to call the cows home, her voice filling the house. “Food’s on the table!”

Goodnight was already laughing when the echoes of her voice died away, a low rumble that was almost lost on it’s journey through the wall.

“Go on. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

⁂

The door to Goodnight’s house swung lifelessly to and fro in the early morning light. Through the now open door, Sam could see the mess of the house beyond, bootprints heavy on the light wood, papers littering the floor like snow. 

“Time for a trip,” Sam said grimly, Elisabeath nodding with a grim look of determination in her eye, and pulling Mary back inside to pack.

Sam didn’t have much to go on: a half remembered face from over a decade ago, eyes swelling shut and skin decorated in bruises and blood; but he remembered Goodnight’s friend. Billy was known to him, a heavy bounty on his head for crimes against Bogue, so a likely ally. Find Billy, and he found Goodnight, and then they could finally talk, face to face. 

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!  
> [Trope mash up list!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com/post/615200731645050880/fanfiction-trope-mash-up)  
> 


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